


Newman-O's, Cows, and Other Signs of Love

by sysrae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Betty made me do it, Bisexual Dean, Caught, Cows, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Newman-O's, Pansexual Castiel, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sysrae/pseuds/sysrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'This is,' pants Cas, pushing tiredly at the cow, 'the stupidest goddamn idea you've ever roped me into, and I say that as someone who once played two rounds of absinthe beer pong with you. Two rounds, Dean. I couldn't walk straight for a week.'<br/>The cow moos disconsolately, as if in agreement. Dean, however, scoffs, and successfully urges their bovine companion up another two steps.<br/>'Quit being such a baby. You wanted a memorable senior prank, and this is –' the cow lurches forwards, leaving Dean to stumble and grab the handrail, '– OK, yeah, this is pretty fucking stupid. God.'  He tips his head and looks up the gap in the centre of the stairwell. 'How many more flights again?'<br/>'Four,' says Cas, and gives the cow an absent pat. 'Well, four and a half. We're still in the mezzanine level.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Newman-O's, Cows, and Other Signs of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/gifts).



'This is,' pants Cas, pushing tiredly at the cow, 'the stupidest goddamn idea you've ever roped me into, and I say that as someone who once played two rounds of absinthe beer pong with you. _Two rounds_ , Dean. I couldn't walk straight for a _week_.'

The cow moos disconsolately, as if in agreement. Dean, however, scoffs, and successfully urges their bovine companion up another two steps.

'Quit being such a baby. You wanted a memorable senior prank, and this is –' the cow lurches forwards, leaving Dean to stumble and grab the handrail, '– OK, yeah, this is pretty fucking stupid. _God_.' He tips his head and looks up the gap in the centre of the stairwell. 'How many more flights again?'

'Four,' says Cas, and gives the cow an absent pat. 'Well, four and a half. We're still in the mezzanine level.'

'Right.' Dean runs a sweaty hand down his face, grimacing at the prickle of cow hair this leaves on his cheeks, then lifts his shirt to wipe them clean in turn. This action exposes enough of his lean, toned stomach that Cas is forced to stare pointedly in a different direction, because Dean being supportive of Cas's newly-discovered pansexuality is one thing, but Dean finding out that his excruciatingly unfair hotness was a pivotal factor in said discovery is quite another.

'What's on the second floor again?' Dean asks, when the shirt is firmly back in place.

Cas takes a considering breath. 'The same as what's on the other floors, mostly. Classrooms, a couple of labs, and –' his eyes light up, an evil grin spreading across his face, '– Mr Singer's office.'

Dean's answering smile is devilish to a degree that should be _illegal_. 'Change in plans?'

'Oh, yeah,' says Cas, and gives the cow an encouraging thump on her black-and-white-splotched haunch. 'Absolutely.'

It takes them nearly ten minutes to urge the cow the rest of the way to the second floor landing, another three for Dean to pick the lock on the stairwell door, and a final four minutes of frantic shushing interspersed with unbridled laughter to guide the cow, who seems wholly relieved to be back on terra firma, through the quiet corridors to Mr Singer's office.

Which is, of course, locked as well, but in deference to the fact that the science block is one of the oldest and most shoddily maintained on campus – hence its lack of a functioning elevator; hence the reason they've chosen it for the Cow Prank – it only takes a few seconds of jimmying with Dean's library card to crack open.

'Victory!' Dean crows, and despite the fact that Singer's office is clearly ill-sized to comfortably house a single grown adult, let alone two teenagers and an increasingly puzzled cow, they somehow manage to cram themselves in: the cow between the desk and the wall, and Cas and Dean between the desk and the door.

They look at the cow, then back to each other, and promptly burst out laughing.

'This is fucking _perfect!_ ' Dean says, slinging an arm around Cas's neck, which action absolutely doesn't make Cas's heart leap. 'Singer is going to lose his shit when he sees her!'

'Agreed,' says Cas, grinning. 'Plus, this actually makes more sense.'

Dean looks at him, but doesn't pull his arm away. 'How so?'

Cas rolls his eyes. 'As I already pointed out – repeatedly, in detail – the idea that cows can't walk down stairs is fallacious. Even if we'd got her all the way to the top floor, the janitorial staff could quite easily have walked her back down again.'

'After how long it took to get her up this far? No way.' Dean finally retracts his arm and starts rummaging in his jacket.

'I admit,' says Cas, 'this _particular_ cow might be – oh, no. No, no.' He glares at the packet of cookies Dean has just withdrawn from his pocket. 'We made a _solemn vow_ , Dean. _Never again_.'

'We were seven!' Dean protests, waggling the packet. 'Besides, we're older now. We can tolerate more sugar without total systems failure.'

'But _Newman-O's?'_ Cas makes a face. 'You couldn't have splurged on an actual packet of Oreos? For the love of god, we're not peasants.'

'Hey, some rules are made to be broken.' And before Cas can raise any more objections, Dean rips open the packaging and proffers the contents – which Cas, being Cas, accepts.

They sit on the edge of Singer's desk, the cow contentedly chewing on a box of files, and eat their off-brand cookies.

'Why the fuck are they even called Newman-O's, anyway?' says Dean, around an impressive mouthful. 'It's so stupid, like, _Oh, let's name a cereal after Paul Newman for some reason, except it's not a cereal, it's a knockoff cookie brand.'_ He grins sarcastically, mimicking an overly-cheerful advertising voiceover. 'Newman-O's: Because you too can have a threeway with James Dean and Eartha Kitt!'

Cas snorts with laughter, spraying crumbs all over the floor. 'Firstly, I think they're called Newman-O's because the brand has something to do with Paul Newman's farm, and secondly –'

'Wait, what?' Dean stares at him. 'They're actually made by Paul Newman?'

'Didn't you just say that?'

'Yeah, but I was guessing!' And he starts to laugh again, a full-body cackle made throaty by his still half-swallowed cookies. 'That is fucking _hilarious_!'

 _'_ And _secondly_ ,' says Cas, smiling because few things make him happier than Dean being happy, 'what do you mean, a threeway with James Dean and Eartha Kitt?'

'Seriously?'

'Seriously.'

'Dude.' Dean looks almost scandalised. 'How do you not know this? James Dean, Paul Newman and Eartha Kitt had a threeway back in the day. This is, like, a vital occurrence in queer history!'

'Sorry,' Cas deadpans, 'my pansexuality primer is still in the mail.'

'Technically, Newman and Dean were both bi, but whatever.' Dean drops his gaze to the cookie packet, turning it over in his hands. 'Actually, I, uh –'

He breaks off, startled into silence by a noise from the hall. He and Cas exchange panicked glances.

'I thought you said the janitors had finished by now!' Dean hisses.

'I thought they had!' Cas shoots back. They both leap up, the cookies and cow abandoned in their rush from the office.

'Shut the door!' says Dean, and in his panic, Cas complies a little too enthusiastically: there's an audible bang, a startled moo from the cow, and then, from the other end of the hall, the unmistakeable sound of approaching footsteps.

'Shit!' says Cas, and the two of them start running, dashing pell-mell for the stairwell, crashing into each other in their haste and laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Dean reaches the door first, but they must have broken the lock somehow when they came through the first time, because now, the handle won't turn even a little. Cas crashes into his friend, chest pressed flush to Dean's back as he reaches around to try his own luck, but even with both of them scrabbling at it, the door remains stubbornly shut, and all the while the footsteps are getting closer.

'Fuck!' Dean swears, and turns around, unbalancing Cas enough that he has to catch his palms on the door, and without even meaning to, he's suddenly got Dean crowded up between his arms, their bodies pressed together, noses so close, they could almost –

'Quick!' Cas says, snapping out of it long enough to grab Dean's hand and haul him down the opposite branch of the hallway – there's another flight of stairs, but they'd have to pass whoever's chasing them to get to it. He drags his friend around a corner, and then another, until they both skid to a halt outside the lab at the farthest end of the floor.

'This door never shuts properly,' says Cas, in answer to Dean's unasked question, and bangs it open to prove his point. They dart inside, and Cas ducks down, fumbling around for the door chock he knows Mr Singer keeps there for just that purpose, letting out a cry of triumph as he wedges the door from the inside.

'No way that'll keep someone out,' Dean breathes.

'It might. A bit.'

'Still. We gotta hide, dude.'

Cas thinks for a moment. 'Come with me,' he says, and pulls Dean in the direction of the supply closet. This, too, is meant to be locked, but as the only supplies it currently contains are stationary rather than chemical, it isn't. Free hand shaking, Cas shuts the door as he and Dean crowd into the tiny space. There's a small window set high up in the wall, and a thin slice of moonlight smudges through, illuminating them both in shades of silver, and it's only then, as his rabbiting pulse starts to settle down, that Cas realises two things: firstly, that he and Dean are pressed closer than they were at the stairwell door; and secondly, that somewhere in between his grabbing Dean's hand and running like hell, they've twined their fingers together and forgotten to let go.

Cas gulps and looks at Dean. His eyes are wide, lips parted, chest heaving a little as he tries to catch his breath, and Cas is on the brink of dropping his hand before it gets awkward – because clearly, Dean hasn't noticed they're still holding each other – when a rough, calloused thumb drags softly across his knuckles, and _holy shit_ , _that is not an accident_ , and Dean is staring at Cas, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and the thumb keeps stroking, back and forward in a completely unplatonic way, and then Dean says, very softly, 'You came out before I could, and I didn't – I didn't want you to think that I was copying you, or pressuring you, but I –'

He doesn't get to finish the sentence, because Cas is shoving him up against the shelves and kissing him hard, like he's wanted to do for goddamn _years_ , and Dean tastes like bourbon and Newman-O's as he moans into Cas's mouth and drags him closer, squeezing his hand as the other comes up to cup his neck, and then Cas ruins it by laughing, breaking off to press his head against Dean's shoulder, chuckling into his shirt.

'What?' Dean asks, sounding worried. 'Cas? What is it?'

Cas smiles and kisses his neck, loving the way Dean shivers. 'If I'd known I just needed to steal a cow to have you come onto me, I'd have done it sooner.'

Dean's answering laughter is muffled as he presses a kiss to Cas's forehead. 'How do you know it's the cow that did it? My bet's on the cookies.' He looks at him and grins, his green eyes bright. 'Newman-O's: the taste of bisexuality!'

'Oh my _god_ ,' Cas groans, 'you are _such_ a dork. Now shut up already and kiss me, would you?'

'You're the one who stopped,' says Dean, and this time it's Cas being pressed up against the shelf, a knee between his thighs as they mouth and gasp at each other, hands roaming frantically under their shirts.

Five minutes later, they get caught by the security guard, who's frankly too embarrassed by the sight of Dean unzipping Cas's pants to do anything more than point his flashlight at the lab door and croak, 'Out!'

'Way to cockblock me, dude,' Cas mutters, blushing a furious shade of red as he does himself up and flees the scene, Dean chuckling in his wake.

'Aw, cheer up, Cas,' Dean says, planting a kiss behind his ear. 'Besides, my car's right outside.'

Cas laughs. 'Your place or mine?'

'Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of the back seat, but if you insist...'

'I never spoke,' says Cas, and kisses him again.

The sound of outraged bovine bellowing echoes through the building.

'What the _fuck_?' yells the security guard. 'Hey! Come back here, you little shits!'

Dean and Cas freeze, and stare at each other - and then they're off again, laughing and shouting, hands joined tightly together as they run from the guard, the building, the school itself, and into the rest of their lives.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on another prompt by bettydays, who requested the following: "HS!AU. Dean and Cas are both nerds and they're BFFs in their senior year. They're notorious pranksters so they come up with a senior prank to end all senior pranks, and in doing so, end up realizing they're friendship is a lot deeper than they think. Cue smut in a classroom or janitorial closet or something post-successful-prank." The bit about Newman-O's is basically the conversation we were having while I wrote this, but adapted to fit the fic at betty's request, because seriously, WE ARE HILARIOUS.


End file.
